Texts
Once it’s time to drink mineral water and gases, everybody joins the levitation tunnel that gently delivers to the source. Everything seems to happen right in the moving stream, bubbles of minerals have enough density to be in the shape that can easily float into the patients mouths. There is a constant peaceful soundscape of these light purple salty drops hitting to each other or getting swallowed by muttering or quietly observing residents of the Space Rehabilitation Centre. They have little of extra energy to express amazement or actually any emotions, their job is to consume nourishment, not to stress about a thing and do movements that are also observed by specialists – some residents spend here longer than their actual lives, this place abolished counting days, what matters is recovery.
No particular check inns, no actual start of the day – everybody has their own device that makes sure they are at the therapies. Who are they? And what happened? According to the public sources, majority of inpatients are recovering from open space labor accidents, exposure to various harmful elements, crossinteractions between intergalactical species, chronic radiation, exhaustion, severe and mild injuries, unclear or mostly classified reasons, some are of course doing commercial rehabilitation. The latter often come from Earth and are obsessed with trash, also they ask lots of questions.
In order to accomplish healing, one must face the void inwards, get deep rest and usually everybody heals on their own and manages to identify the root cause of their diseases. Healing takes time, sometimes millions of years.
Support person, creature or any other caregiver are allowed but you don’t see them often, sometimes some couples come from far sides of universe – that’s how you are invited to know that they are keeping each other very close. Solitude in the space is a common thing, traveling in vastness makes you fuller, less aware and ultimately bit annoying for others.
Once you enter into spinal pressure therapy, you are sucked into a room with a door – it leads to a garden with multiple water streams, gravity is around 9,8 meters per seconds squared, this place is torturous for many, makes your body fluids rush but there you meet kind guides who support you in balance exercises – they make sure you can do at least one jump. Next door leads to a hall of 7 meters per seconds squared, it has extremely grainy surfaces with contrast inorganic compounds filled with asteroid rocks. Next door leads to pulls of 5,4 meters per seconds square, density goes up…
At first, I didn’t know we had neighbors living with us. There were no extra beds, extra cushions, everything looked unsuspicious – until one night I have noticed movement in a shadow from my mirror light in the bathroom. I accidentally have been taking shower with my…neighbor. Not that I’m terribly unaware, in fact, I have laser vision that can shoot through dark matter, I was just convinced and believed what I’d usually see. There was Mx. E. atrica from a tiny molecular cloud in Alpha Centauri, I have never been there. So our neighbor is a spider.
Dirt is an understatement – after meeting Spider neighbors, one of us had to lay in a liquid fossilized soil bath that was displaced from unknown biosphere. All my joints were slowly releasing tension, I could see plant growth from the skin of my hands. I have been told that this is the goal – to grow roots from all body tissues. You can wash off any vascular plants. Although, some intentionally build synapsis with your muscles and therefore restore damaged parts. The feeling is quite empowering – also having in mind that these organisms have come up with this idea. They distribute nutrients deep into muscles and work quite well with various immune systems. The only problem is that once you start the set of such procedures, you really need light exposure and moisture – to keep them alive. But they absorb things quickly, I am really thankful and much more relaxed, cells of these plants create the feeling of days go by. Going to wash it off now.
I’ve been told today by my physiotherapy guide that I will be released once my body stops expecting history to repeat, that it is not enough to understand and learn all the movements and hacks, they have been looking at me thoroughly last session and told me: “You are following logic too much, training as if it’s a piece for an instrument, but these is no music so far.” I love music and we were actually in a semi-vacuum hall. “You stretch as if you are polishing your spine, and you sit in baths as if you are dunking your brain into soap.” It struck me and I felt a bit offended, as I’ve been doing so much effort in following every procedure and being always present. I don’t know. How does one even stay present? Am I absent? Ok, the guide is continuing the speech: “If you have reasons to move better, you are not moving. Body is not just some body, it holds and defines what you do. Any little stumble in your mobility and organs you visibly try to articulate through negative ideas. To be free you need to learn that nothing gets broken and nothing is fixed, it’s not really my job to tell you that. Unless you are still, you are almost a machine. Be more stupid next time we meet. Now you go to paracosm therapy.” My guide seems to be a yapper.
While I was laying on the mycelium bed, starting to feel bored, the jet tube elevator opened and a group of very transparent, obviously ageless residents of the Centre graciously arrived to join me. They were placed in a bigger heavy metal room, where the consciousness spreads and fills every corner – room was designed to not have crevices and let the tired power creatures slide their intelligence, like a dense cherry jam, all over shiny metals. Honestly, it pushed a tear from my eye, I know that privacy is beyond these walls, but I could feel the intense relief spreading wide – onto me as well. We come to Space Rehabilitation Centre to risk our alertness, sharpness of our teeth, every sharp bone is risked and challenged. My bed was also contributing but in a way, that made all meridians, every resistance path and nervous systems channel themselves, every blind spot got filled as if a river had returned to its stream bed, and I even fell into my nap.
I wish I could tell you something more, some story that has happened but it is kind of a thing of the Centre, things don’t tend to happen. Routine is happening, right, but it is designed to be very consuming – you move from one location to another, sit or lay, eat. I’ve found that every equipment started meaning a bit more than conversations. I remember the bubbles emerging, the pipe pouring muddy minerals, electrostatic generators getting powered like a bee hive, stretching belts grow tense, something starts working so intentionally, breaking silence on point. Only purpose of these machines is to start and stop working on time.
Very soon I will eat lunch. I finally forgave every bad meal. Observing what others get, I imagined they all get apples that just fell from above, as our meals arrive to each assigned spot from a kitchen that is above, and I’m allergic to apples and tried to bite them way too many times. My freeze-dried, rehydrated soup came in a tube, tiny hologram says it’s filled with vitamin K2 (vitamin cheese) and vitamin E which is usually in a shape of some nutty algae. My next meal is pecan prepared with artichoke, sauce is based on garlic and pure manganese. As a snack, I’m choosing today a bar of selenium and for a beverage – tea with Polygonatum spp., I like to drink it before going into thermal paragliding chamber where we go into open space simulator.
While I was floating in some random part of our galaxy, I would still get a bit annoyed by my suit and still too aware of the room I was training in, I noticed my nose grasps more air than before. Perhaps my muscle tonus changed on my portal-device that I use for navigating in the Centre – a thermal paragliding guide calmly turned off the simulator, first time I’ve experienced something done manually here. Looking around at screens and slowly returning to usual senses, I’ve asked my guide if it’s okay for me to have a break. “Keep sitting, please”, – was the answer, first time almost rude. “We have to interrupt the loop.” In the Space Rehabilitation Centre, you barely do decisions, stress died in this environment light years ago. I’ve realized that whole shuttle just stopped, could mean the arrival of new residents, big amount, various species. I could laser through the screens that an enormous sphere is entering the gate, could mean whole hyphae, whole ecosystem probably is being absorbed into the Centre. As my therapy hall was in the close distance to the gate, we all got the spike of electrical potential. Extremely low frequency bands filled corridors and rest rooms, it went through us several times, my paraglider was pulsating along the oscillations. These impulses penetrated the radio of the simulator, it spread far into the landscape where I was just rescued from. My guide was turning on wave reflectors – the kind I only knew in theory. The sphere was distributing uncontrollable amounts of pain. And I was still floating in the room, I could understand that we have similar problem, just I was not that anxious like them. The staff was surprisingly failing at communicating, they were too trained and knew too many techniques, still hanging there I could tell that when a huge ball of a soul is struggling there, one should use their soul only. Not knowing what I’m up to, I’ve come up with the idea of volunteering to help the hyphae.
They are their own guides, own masters of the Universe, even when still sick and about to arrive to our Space Rehabilitation Centre. I never meet new residents so I don’t intervene into their wandering mode, we will find each other on scheduled time in my therapy hall – only when it’s actually good time for all of us. Randomness in getting a whole new experience is what is more important then making first impressions. Honestly, I feel slightly excited for a new start in healing. Some of the inpatients that I work with, live here for periods beyond any universal time perception, timing is way less important then actual rehabilitation. They all leave, for sure.
Before a session starts, the hall needs to be filled with rehabinoise. It could be described as a very dense static texture that is polyphonic and stochastic. I use my portable function generator that has intergrated circuits for all my modulated soundscapes. Sometimes it gets silent, sometimes we amplify the drops of tea falling into our mounths. Now I am also preparing for a tea session with my new patient who has been transferred from a planetary stationary rehabilitation.
When I first arrived here myself, I loved everything here, but now I just find it hard to enjoy repeatable movements, numbers, same interiors. In numbers, every single body shrinks into those numbers. Three meetings, four floors, 80 kilograms, one creature, 10 legs, hundreds of days. Every patient, every support person around here gets smaller in their shapes once you start counting. By now I’ve stopped controlling it, measuring or labeling. In my therapy, we go by smallest units to feel quicker and by comforting zeroes – to remind ourselves that we are filled with thoughts and often with worries and souls. So far, thinking back, I’ve learned and now could find all the proof that residents of the Centre don’t care to be cared for, we all just crave to be understood.
Anyway, I found myself slightly annoyed by the elevator being so smooth and slow, my bones need to feel the machine moving, at least some reassuring vibration. But everything in this place is utterly safe, it’s hard to even fantasize putting oneself in danger. I could probably stand in one place too long, so my body could start cramping – but I have overly trained endurance and there are cushions literally everywhere. Could I choke on my soon incoming meal? Well, you barely can stuff your mouth with that easily chewable, swallowed or injested nutrition. Nothing comes in surplus, nothing here is too little. My job is a heaven for other spacial labor unions, I’m even my own administration buro. But whom can I complain to that I feel so dissapointed in myself?
Tea soup was about to boil, but never actually boiling, as if liquids were waiting to burst but wanted to act unpredictably. Observing it, I could relate. All my inpatients, in different formulations or ways of communication, heard from me that in rehabilition therapy that I practice, we don’t intend to save the previous self, them who once got sick or experienced some trauma. The previous self is so hard to care for, really. I could feel that my whole skeleton is not the same as it was earlier today, it’s more sharp, poking to soft tissues, the previous skeleton is still seeking my muscles, but I just ate our locally crafted amino acids and it’s just not as it used to be inside of me. I have a plan, after eating I will do some resistance stretching, it is one of the few eqipments that make me feel more jelly. To reward myself with such good plan, I rushed away still swallowing the herb soup, I’ve decided to walk more than float, put my dishes and tray into the washing cabinet and excitingly rushed back. No, as I was turning to go I bumped into my collegue from thermal paragliding therapy of open space simulation. “Hello, weird day, I don’t even remember seeing you here”, said my super slow collegue, and unfortunately continued: “Can you believe that we met now, first time, isn’t amazi….”. “Oh, fuck off…”, – I rushed away after my unexpected answer leaving the collegue far behind, who probably didn’t even understand me but I felt like I punched a brick in the air-wall yet still had loads of weird anger in that skeleton and it was slowly bursting outwards.
It’s hard to grasp how fast, how far you can move in just few seconds. Sometimes the Centre goes through moments of severe expansion, while we, the workers, stay intact but torn in feelings known to anybody. One thought ahead, limbs coming after. What part of me is protecting me from feeling this gap right now? I’ve always wanted to go too far and achieved it with my position here, but this routine is pushing me away from these glorious thoughts. I am not the person who came here once, because they didn’t survive in this routine. Thinking and working in rehabilitation, being fully involved in recovery of others made my life a recovery circle, I didn’t have these moments of sickness and I also didn’t have revelations that my patients go through. Inspiring them to live all the time, everyday work made my life a desert, I knew every possible way of navigating it and being at incredible stillness of mind but I would not escape it. I’ve robbed myself of escape routes, even though I was perfectly trained to help bodies to regenerate, recover, blood to start flowing again, minds to patch their shell shocks, I knew exactly every possible route but they led deeper inwards. Knowing that, made me an actual inhabitant of Space Rehabilitation Centre.
I’ve been literally living from a cup of tea till another. Since I’ve adopted the therapeutical method of infusion and maceration, sessions with patients got some dynamic. Tightening springs, I could close valves of the boiling machine, my own built intergrated circuits were controlling electromagnet and a bunch of topaz and quartz, I had hydrophone attached to it, it was basically detecting oscillations from any cosmic bodies outside the Centre, so I could have my own energy regeneration for heating liquids. Boiling with echolocation was benefitial to keep a stable amount of minerals in tea, I enjoyed the preparation sometimes more than taste, although it was always quite good. Everybody has a different esophagus, or has none, anatomy of consuming is a wide spectrum, so I was always into researching more elastic materials to sustain or dillute densitites, I’ve been studying various linear electrical behaviours to understand density needed for different plants. We’d drink from ceramic vessels – that’s another layer of macroscopic piezoelectricity… It could be a cup made of sodium potassium niobate, for example. A drink that we call tea would conduct surrounding microvoltages and still have nutrition, terpenes and flavors – that was a reason that made my patients feel safe in this huge weird place where I was having a beef with nothingness. In a way, tea also kept us being high.
After having my last inpatient appointment today, I felt no interest in travelling through the Centre towards my apartment, so I just kept gazing into the window screens. There was a dramatic incoming pull, as dramatic as it gets every time – new residents arriving right now. One pull after another low oscillation. Multiple repetitions, then an enormous Sphere blocked the open entrance and suddenly tectonic pulls stopped altogether and released this horrible atmospheric tension. I don’t really care about breathing, but my breathing went very deeply slow. I’m not here. Every particle, object and a part of my life right now burned into retina. Is it still me, or the shadows went further from the objects under the light. Sphere outside was still struggling. I’ve encountered many of them struggling at first, this one was no exception. In my slow gaze there seemed to be more optical depth, I could still relax my eyes by just watching. Everyday I patch every part that remains of myself so this place doesnt sore what’s left of me. Everything regenerates slowly, some day slower, like today, as if every process stops and my body gets filled with some sour smoke, like this giant ball out there. As if the skin, eyes don’t grasp the open space, forget what they knew. However, after such days, healing accelerates. While there is nothing to look at in my window screens, I know that another place [for me] already exists, like every inpatient is already leaving the Space Rehabilitation Centre at their final day here. Anyhow, I don’t really have what else to do today. Now I’m watching how one of my patients helps the Sphere to calm down, while they think it’s a brave thing to do, I know already that this act of care and help is a normal way of checking out of the Centre.